Speaking of kiss and hug give warm feeling.
The hope of loves pleasent sting revealing.
But to tast such fruit now would be stealing.
Only God's love for me now is healing.

At a distance of 3000 miles you are close
I love you from there but its not close enough.

Two doors down i can hear you; you are close
I love you now more but your still not close enough.

They say to be love sick is a terminal case
Condemned to burn slowly lonely depressed.

The victorians tried everything that they would
blood lettng with leaches and vigorous sex.

In a night unexpected a lone dart pierced my heart
and a thread of attachment was born.
Time made me forget the sting of that barb but
the next time more flesh was torn.

Her eye captures what few would see
of the city
the forest
and of the sea.

For the sick she yearns to do her part
offers life’s blood
out sore vein
of tender heart.